


que reste-t-il de nos amours

by necrosisjones



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt No Comfort, I mean..... Cayde's dead so that's kinda obvious, Multi, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22131469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necrosisjones/pseuds/necrosisjones
Summary: It used to be a hiding spot for both of you, far away from your responsibilities. Cayde had found this place decades ago and brought you here during one of your escapades together.You’ve sworn to never return here, to forget it has ever existed, but a grieving mind is a stubborn arbiter.
Relationships: Cayde-6 (Destiny)/Reader, Cayde-6/Guardian (Destiny)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	que reste-t-il de nos amours

**Author's Note:**

> you ever find something that reminds you of someone who’s not in your life anymore? yeah
> 
> (while this is not a song fic, "Que reste-t-il de nos amours" accompanied me while writing this, and it's the song mentioned in the fic, so I recommend giving it a listen, esp Stacey Kent's cover)

There’s a residential block in the long abandoned part of the Last City, standing in the shadow of the old Tower’s crumbing frame. At the top floor, an apartment — it used to be a hiding spot for both of you, far away from your responsibilities. Cayde had found this place decades ago and brought you here during one of your escapades together.

There’s nothing special about it, really: the paint is peeling off the walls, blue flakes piling up by the baseboards, the carpets faded-out, the furniture battered and outdated. But the view from the balcony… That’s the real treat. You can see the entire district from the balcony, including the overgrown park surrounding the building. You remember how much Cayde enjoyed watching the sunsets from there, while you preferred to stay until sunrise. In its prime, this place could’ve been lovely.

You’ve sworn to never return here, to forget it has ever existed, but a grieving mind is a stubborn arbiter. And so, you find yourself here again, despite being assigned patrol duty in the EDZ. It’s not the first time you’ve neglected your duty to come here, but it’s your first time to do it  _ alone _ .

You run your finger along one of the shelves, collecting a small clump of dust in the process — has it really been this long since your last visit? Only now do you realize how many books actually occupy these shelves, the old wood bending under their weight; they’re mostly romance novels,  _ terrible _ romance novels. You can almost hear Cayde snort at the titles, recalling the way he laughed at the Golden Age comedies you used to watch here, bundled up under a blanket together, a tablet on Cayde’s lap, your head on his shoulder. You wince at the flashback.

You aren't sure how to progress with your life — perhaps that’s why you keep coming back here. You know that you should put the the memories to rest, that nothing good will ever come from dwelling on the past, but… At times, you still catch yourself hoping that someday you’ll wake up and the empty space in your bed will once again be occupied, that maybe,  _ somehow  _ Cayde isn’t—

You sniffle, turning your attention back to the books. Something seems to be wedged between them, something too thin to be a novel, or even a magazine. You try to dig it out, but your nails slide off its edge. You retry and fail again; no matter how hard you try, it just won’t budge. Curious, you decide to remove a few volumes to free the mysterious object. As soon as you pull one of the books out, the entire row topples to the side, raising a cloud of dust, and you can finally take the item out.

The sudden influx of memories nearly knocks you off your feet. It’s an avalanche of sounds and images, all so vivid, yet so very distant. You have to sit down, forgetting how to breathe for a moment

What you’re holding in your hand is an envelope with an old-fashioned vinyl record.  _ The _ vinyl record. Cayde stumbled upon it by accident while rummaging through the apartment in search of some valuables. Ever since then, it had become your  _ thing _ .

You started each visit with the song. The needle barely had a chance to drop before you were in Cayde’s arms, snuggled against his chest, swaying to the music. You swear that you still feel his hands where they used to rest as you danced.

Your chin quivers. You have to turn your eyes away, letting out a heavy sigh.

The song was in French, or so you think, having a hard time recalling anything more than the melody — you can’t bring yourself to listen to it again, not since—

You hear laughter somewhere in the distance and it almost sounds familiar. You can’t tell if someone has wandered this far into the City’s ruins, or if your mind is simply playing tricks on you, but… Maybe it’s a sign? Maybe it’s time to stop returning here. time to let other Guardians discover this place, to let new memories attach to this apartment?

You look down at the envelope one last time. As you prepare to put it back in its place and leave, you notice that something’s scribbled at the bottom of it. You would recognize this ink everywhere — Cayde’s lucky pen, the one he always used to write down the results when you played cards together. You have to squint, convincing yourself that it’s the last rays of the setting sun barely finding their way into the room, not the tears, that make reading so difficult.

_ “forever yours (or at least until the next reset) — C6” _


End file.
